The title of this post will make sense in a minute.
I promise.
I hope.
Please bear with me.
The first side of the contrast is based on the fact that after a year of the start of the current administration, I still struggle to make sense of the shit-show that is our government in action. A few examples:
The push to nationalize the elections despite the fact that it’s unconstitutional. States control elections period. Article 1, Section 4 of the Constitution explains that the States have the primary authority over election administration, the “times, places, and manner of holding elections”.
The defense of ICE being so aggressive, dragging people of of their cars, assaulting people, killing people.
Ignoring the truth in the Epstien Files.
Refusing to act on that truth.
Partisan politics getting more and more extreme, with Dems and Republicans calling each other the enemy and refusing to work together on much-needed legislation.
Deflecting from the serious problems with the proposed renovation of the Kennedy Center. (I will never, ever, refer to it as the tRump Kennedy Center.) Who needs marble arm rests?
Need I list more?
Probably not, as all this has really been stressful for the last couple of weeks, as I’m sure has been true for many other folks as well. Plus, every nuance of current affairs is being dissected on social media ad nauseum.
There’s only so much a person can take.
You don’t need to keep reading about it, and God knows I don’t either.
Lately I’ve been turning more and more to something else. Something to take my mind off the news, as well as my own personal problems, and find some peace.
I turn off my computer and stop reading news stories, and go to my craft room where I work on quilting, coloring, or a jigsaw puzzle.
I didn’t stop to consider that self-care until I read a recent article on Substack, Finding Grace in the Grit of Struggle, by Stephanie Raffelock of Creative Eldering
She wrote about doing things that heal instead of hurt.
One simple thing she mentioned: “I like to dig in the dirt in my garden. I make garden alters, and plant things and feel good about life.”
She’s so right about even the smallest of things that bring us pleasure being beneficial to our overall well being. It’s good for our mental, emotional, and physical well being to step back. Disconnect from the news. Breathe. Smile more. Laugh often. Play. Create.
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So, in the spirit of doing my part to improve the overall health of my readers and encourage more smiles, I offer this latest from humorist Slim Randles. Gotta love the guys down at the Mule Barn Truck Stop. They haven’t forgotten the joy of being a little on the silly side – or a lot on the silly side – and laughing often.
Enjoy!
Don’t look at me … Steve started it. Oh yes, it’s still us, the supreme court of coffee and anything ridiculous. And yes, we’re ensconced once again within the hallowed halls of the Mule Barn coffee shop. Just about like every morning. But today, Steve, our beloved ranch cowboy and fine-feathered farrier, broke into song to bring back memories of high remote camps, log-sitting-around fires, and trips to town, and dancing with whatever girls we might scare up.
From his end of the counter, Steve began, “Oh, you don’t know what lonesome is, ‘til you start herdin’ co-o-o-o-o-ws!”
And there has to be at least five o’s in cows or it doesn’t count. Yep, that lack of attention to detail would automatically brand this as coming from someone on the radio, but with a long-drawn out cows ….. most of us knew the source. Not Doc and Herb, as they didn’t share the same history of bunkhouse life the rest of us shared some 40 years back.
The rest of were laughing so hard at the memories that we couldn’t swallow coffee. Windy spilled his all over the sugar packets.
“Okay,” said Doc, “I’ll ask. Where’s the song from?”
“Ain’t the song, Doc,” said Steve. “It’s the singer.”
“Three-Chord Cortez!”
“Let’s hear it for T.C.!”
“Bunkhouse at the pack station?”
“And the ranches … in the winter.”
“But most memorably,” added Steve, “at houses in town. After dark. Houses that sheltered a female of eligible age. Three-Chord was a firm believer in old-fashioned courtship. So he’d go over to a girl’s house after dark and sing. All together now.”
“You don’t know what lonesome is, ‘til you start herdin’ co-o-o-o-o-ws!”
It sounded better when the whole chorus sang along.
“And he’d practice it in the bunkhouses and on horseback up in the back country, scaring gophers in the valley’s alfalfa fields.”
“Did it work?” asked Herb.
“Well,” said Steve, “sometimes the girl’s father would invite him in just so he wouldn’t wake the neighbors.”
“One thing mighta helped a bunch, though,” added Windy. “I really think he’d ‘ve done better if he knew the words to the rest of the song.”
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Brought to you by Dogsled, A True Tale of the North, by Slim Randles. Available darn near everywhere.
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Check out all of Slim’s award-winning books at his Goodreads Page and in better bookstores and bunkhouses throughout the free world.
All of the posts here are from his syndicated column, Home Country that is read in hundreds of newspapers across the country. I am always happy to have him share his wit and wisdom here.
Slim Randles is a veteran newspaperman, hunting guide, cowboy and dog musher. He was a feature writer and columnist for The Anchorage Daily News for 10 years and guided hunters in the Alaska Range and the Talkeetna Mountains. A resident of New Mexico now for more than 30 years, Randles is the prize-winning author of a dozen books, and is host of two podcasts and a television program.
